


It's Not Delivery

by comeonlight



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Fluff, Inevitable Quarantine Fic, Post-Canon, post-LR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeonlight/pseuds/comeonlight
Summary: So. Quarantine. Well, at least Lightning and Hope are in good company.
Relationships: Hope Estheim/Lightning
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	It's Not Delivery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainbowSerenity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowSerenity/gifts).



> I had NO idea how this would turn out but I reckon it's disgustingly corny and uwu enough. Happy birthday to the person who got me into writing fanfic, and here's to many more. You're a mcfrickin' rockstar, Senpai.

In what was...short of her proudest moment, Lightning had smiled upon hearing the mandate for a three-week quarantine. Not because she’d be confined to her home outside of essential trips for groceries, but because quarantine meant that her schedule jam-packed with photoshoots would suddenly be cleared.

Or so she’d hoped.

In reality, she’s stuck with a bunch of virtual interviews and meetings instead. Still, five o’clock is five o’clock. The moment the clock in the corner of her screen hits the hour, Lightning shuts her laptop and stands from her sturdy (and admittedly, somewhat lofty) office chair. She stretches, hands over head. To the left...the right...loosen those joints, stretch out the legs—

“Five o’clock,” Hope announces from outside the glass door to the study, right before sliding it open and stepping inside. His punctuality—that is, when he  _ isn’t  _ engrossed in his work or a particularly appealing book—is nearly a match for Lightning’s own. Not that the fact is particularly advantageous, but at least they can generally avoid getting chided for being late to get-togethers. Except for  _ that one time,  _ but so far it seems Fang’s vow of silence hasn’t been broken. Yet.

“Five o’clock,” Lightning sighs, exhaling all the day’s tension. For a moment she reflects how just a few months ago, a heavy, painfully awkward silence would’ve ensued after greeting Hope at the end of the workday. Now it’s routine. A comfortable routine, at that. “So. What’s on the menu?” Lightning strolls across the room, her slippers making a soft sliding sound on the hardwood with each step. Ah, the simple pleasures of working from home. She stops in front of Hope, who now dons his classic contemplative face.

“We stocked up a lot yesterday. Maybe fish...or should it be a salad night? We should figure out what to do with those bell peppers, too. And that tofu still in the freezer. Did we finish the milk yet?” Sometimes, Hope has genius ramblings that fly way above Lightning’s head. Other times, he gets way too caught up in matters as simple as dinner.

“Let’s just call it a pizza night,” Lightning resolves, patting her roommate—her  _ boyfriend,  _ now—on the shoulder. She saunters into the hall with that, making her way toward the kitchen. “Pizza also sounds good,” comes Hope’s delayed reaction as he follows. Once they reach the kitchen, Hope eagerly opens the freezer to retrieve the box containing his and Lightning’s soon-to-be-dinner. “Nothing like Mrs. R’s,” he chimes.

Lightning can’t disagree; that right there is the best brand of frozen pizza on the planet. “We should go to the restaurant sometime and try the real deal.”

Hope begins to open the box as Lightning sets the oven temperature. “Now I  _ really  _ can’t wait for this pandemic to be over. You know, they say some people go stir-crazy during these types of lockdowns.”

“Who’s ‘they?’” Lightning asks. She leans against the counter and smirks. “What’s your source, Doc?”

Hope purses his lips and kneels to shuffle through a cabinet for the pizza tray. “Ah… Well, you know. Just regurgitating some junk I scrolled past online.” He pulls the pizza tray out from the cabinet with a quiet scraping against some other metal. “Now I want to research the claim’s veracity.” He stands up, closing the cabinet with his knee, then sets the tray on the counter next to the open pizza box. “Say, Light? This will all work out fine, right?”

The weight of the situation is nothing to scoff at, even if they do joke about it. Lightning lowers her head at first, but then lifts it, remembering. “Tell me your name.”

Hope slides the pizza out of the box and directly onto the tray, then meets his partner’s gaze with a look of pure cluelessness. “Hope?”

Lightning smirks. “That’s right. Who’s to say how this, or anything ends? But we have hope.” The oven beeps, indicating that it has reached its designated temperature. “And we have pizza and a movie.”

The last bit draws a smile from Hope as he brings the pizza towards the oven. He pauses just short of the apparatus, tending to more urgent business than even food by placing a quick but ardent kiss upon the lips of the woman he loves. “That we do. And what cinematic masterpiece, may I ask, do you have in mind?”

A glint of mischief in Lightning’s eyes transforms into tenderness. “You haven’t seen it, but I think you’ll like what it’s about. It’s called,  _ Ol’ Reliable Rainbows.” _

Hope raises his brow at the title as he finally moves to open the oven and place the pizza inside. “Is it about rainbows?”

“You’ll have to watch and find out,” Lightning teases. She waits for Hope to close the oven, then places a hand over his. “...And, for the record: if things do go south, there’s no one I’d rather go stir-crazy with.” That’s the most cheese Hope will get from her tonight. The pizza can cover the rest.


End file.
